He Knew this Place Somewhere
by Sakura Bontecou Kobayashi
Summary: He failed in his last attempt to protect her, and now he's doing it again. There are so many things he's wished he's done before her life slipped out from his hands. HitsuHina. Drabble-ish collection.


_Disclaimer: Never owned Bleach. Never will. :)_

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><p>"Take your time, boy," he said gruffly, his arms crossed in front of his fat chest. "Take your time, then. I will not be waiting."<p>

The boy did not reply.

"She's already dead now. What are you going to do about it? She's already dead and there's nothing you could do about it."

He still did not stir.

With a sigh, the larger man stomped towards the bed where the boy was folded in his sheets, sitting facing the white wall. The man's large hand grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, not at all gentle, and seethed through his teeth, "Don't think I can't hurt you, boy. I don't give a damn between what happened between you and the dead girl, but you're gonn' have to pay up for the damage those goddamn people has done to my business. You got that?"

He was breathing, it seemed, alive, but at the same time he wasn't breathing at all.

"Those damn assassins –or whatever they were- were after you, so you're gonn' have to give me money so I can fix my house. I'm not gonn' stand here and wait until you got your little mind straight; I don't have the patience. Get me your grandma's money right now, 'cause I'm not gonn' wait.

And just get this into your puny little skull: The little girl's dead. Now get over it."

His last comment was spit out like an insult, and the boy underneath him, previously motionless, turned to him then with the deadliest glint in his eyes. His eyes, normally black, grew greener and bluer until they were glowing; his hair, normally brown, grew whiter and paler until they were the color of snow. The older man, twice his size, then stepped back in horror while he watched thick layers of frost accumulate in all corners of the room, and his terrified gasps breathed out into the crispy cold air like white clouds. With a yell, the fat man stumbled back against the wall, his stalwart completely gone.

"Yo-you're a monster!" he screamed, pointing at the glowing young child. "You're a monster, just like them! You get away from me!"

"She is not dead," the boy instead murmured; the room was enclosed with ice now. The door sealed shut, and gusts of harsh, biting wind blew around the room like a storm. The man screamed again, sliding down the wall and wrapping his arms around his head, petrified. Toshiro stood up from the bed, unrecognizable. He wasn't the average little boy anymore. "Even if she is," he continued, "I will find her."

The little house on the prairie blew apart in a mix between snow, hail, and ice.

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><p><em>He Knew this Place Somewhere<em>

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><p>Even after he died, Toshiro was still an outcast. Usually, the souls who had died and had come here were just normal, average people, and it seemed that he was not. He couldn't exactly remember what happened in his last moments, couldn't remember what and who he was in his past life; he only knew that this was the afterlife, and that he was lost, helpless. And he was hungry.<p>

And then, after a day, he knew he recognized her somehow.

She saw him too. She saw his abnormal white hair, his brilliant blue-green eyes and tanned skin, his small stature. She saw his curled up figure underneath the snow-covered tree, huddled in a ball with his arms wrapped around his knees, clad in a plain white kimono. It also snowed in the afterlife.

Toshiro was never a very affectionate person, but when the girl named after peaches first walked to him after his death, asking if he was okay, he immediately jumped up to hug her.

He knew this feeling somewhere.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

She hadn't died longer before he did. She was also young, happy, and so _familiar_ to Toshiro that he felt like he could cry whenever he saw her sleeping, though he never knew why. Momo was an optimistic and caring girl; she immediately took him to her home where she was living with her grandmother during that time in winter, holding his hands. Her grandmother, too, sent a wave of warmth down Toshiro's spine when she looked at him, and smiled.

The two were the only ones who accepted him after he came.

After some time, the two females slowly helped Toshiro to open up to them, and helped him in remembering who exactly he was. They never did succeed, but they did manage to quickly earn Toshiro's trust and care, and the little boy followed Momo around whenever she went out somewhere because he wanted to be by her side, protect her. He had this thought of _Never again, never again, it will never happen again_ running through his mind every time she turned her back to him, cheerfully bidding goodbye. It sent a rush of horror through him when he saw that she was leaving without him, a desperate but silent scream coming out from him when he dashed forward to catch her sleeve, asking to come with her. She never refused, of course; she would never push him away.

For the first few years that he came to Soul Society, he shared a futon with her, although he was a little embarrassed. For the first many nights when they were sleeping, and he would suddenly wake up beside her screaming not to leave him, not to abandon him again, Momo cradled him back to sleep and reassured to him that she would always be there.

When encircled within her warm protecting arms, he knew her smell from somewhere.

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After a couple of decades, Momo was growing taller. It wasn't fair, he thought, when she was tall enough that she was a far foot ahead of him, and he was looking up at her like a little child pouting to an adult. He already felt small enough even before she grew, and now he would never catch up to her anytime soon. Momo advised him to sleep a little more each day.

So, everyday in the afternoon, he would try to take a nap to grow big enough so he could fully protect her.

Momo was very likeable, and as a sweet young girl, she had a group of friends in their neighborhood. Toshiro, however, acknowledged the fact that his icy façade was easily scaring all the younger souls away, and he never complained. He couldn't help but admit that he was upset sometimes that she would turn her attention away from him, because she was the only companion he had. She was his friend, he thought, how could she do something so mean to him?

When Momo returned, though, she always carried home a big, juicy watermelon for him to make up for the day without her. Although he had to help her carry the heavy fruit home every time she bought them, he never complained about that either. She was apologizing to him, and he was glad for that. She had the habit of ruffling his hair after she's grown so much taller than him, and he would slap her hand away irritatingly, and she would giggle.

He loved watermelons, because he could taste the sweetness in his mouth that represented the connection between him and her.

He knew this taste somewhere.

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They were both growing up. Toshiro has cracked out of his quiet shell at home now, especially around her, and was acting more like a brat. He realized that he had quite an amount of unacknowledged talent caged within him, and he was trying fully to understand them. Momo said that he was a genius.

Psh. Who cared what the bed-wetter would say?

Sometime later, too fast for him, Momo announced that she would be going to Shinigami School and become a Soul Reaper. Toshiro heard from some adults' conversations that the job was difficult and dangerous. He was unhappy at first, reluctant to have her go somewhere so dangerous without him, where he couldn't protect her. He didn't want to leave her side already when he'd been trying to keep her there for the past few decades.

But she looked unhappy too when he didn't give her the encouragement she was waiting for. Whenever she gave him a sad look, even when she was acting, Toshiro could feel a sense of guilt lodged in the back of his throat that kept him from refusing her. She really did want this because she was growing up, because she realized that she wanted to become a stronger girl to protect her little Shiro-chan, and to explore the world. Toshiro knew in the back of his mind that he should be the one protecting her, shielding her away from the world, because in his past life he must have failed that task somehow, and he was going to make it count this time. However, he couldn't fetter Momo forever in their little world; she needed more freedom.

So finally, after some while, Toshiro accepted the fact that she would be leaving him, and he accepted the lack of her presence after she went to school.

He knew this disappointment somewhere.

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He was surprised that he had Soul Reaper powers, too. A busty, orange-haired woman had come to him one night, telling him that he was killing his grandmother with cold and his dreams about an icy dragon. She urged him to go to Shinigami School, where Momo had been for many years now, and though he was excited about the thought of seeing his friend again, he dreaded leaving his grandmother. With both her children gone, how would she be?

There was something about the thought of leaving his grandmother alone that made him crumple inside with guilt.

Grandmother understood; she was compassionate, and only smiled at him in encouragement when he told her he needed to go. Although he did not really want to leave his home again without a choice, he had to do it. He'd kill her either way.

When he was walking away from Momo's, Grandmother's, his home to school, and he was turning back to look at it, he wanted to run back again. He missed his home already.

Strange, it felt; he knew this regret from somewhere.

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It turned out to him that he was a prodigy. He didn't even manage to see Momo before he was called to the captains' meeting and was promoted his own title. Although proud of his accomplishments and eager to face the new challenges he'd meet, Toshiro only wanted to see his friend after he'd put on his cape to receive a congratulations or a smile.

When he did find her, she was still in her school robes, smiling happily at him and calling him "Hitsugaya-kun."

The next many years were hard; Momo managed to climb up the ranks and titles to be promoted into the vice-captain of the fifth squad, and he himself found a partner – the busty, orange-haired woman that came to find him that night. He was still young, still the smallest Soul Reaper around them, and still shorter than Momo, though he did grow taller. However, despite his height and size, everybody called him the brilliant young genius. It turned out that Momo was right.

He mastered his Bankai before his previous classmates had even unlocked it, aced the Soul Reaper test each time he took them before his school had even studied for it. For the first time, he actually felt like he belonged somewhere; he finally found a place where he can be acknowledged for who he was. It was both a rocky and smooth sail, and he felt satisfied for a little while, but not proud.

He realized that he held much more potential than he ever thought he had; it seemed that he knew this surprising recognition somewhere.

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His first killing was with an enormous Hollow. At first sight of the large creature, Toshiro was shook with a sense of dread and surprise. There was something more significant to the meaning of destroying the demon, something more tangible and reachable in the back of his mind that the sight of this creature was stirring from him. He felt a greater desire to protect, to shield, and when he turned around to search for the person he wanted to see at that moment, she wasn't there. He was panicked; she really was not there, right?

When he was certain after a while that no, she was not there, and yes, she was completely safe, Toshiro took a deep breath and easily defeated the Hollow with a single slash of his sword.

But during the next few times after the first when he was battling with these demons again, Toshiro would always check behind him to see if Momo was there, because there was always an image flashing through his mind of her bleeding on the ground, helpless and harmed, and he was unable to do anything about it. His hands shook with bloodthirst and hate whenever his eyes landed on the sight of Hollows, and his reiatsu trembled in vengefulness and a desire to kill everything that stood in his way, because he knew he had failed in his past life to have done so. Although there were no actual memories, Toshiro could remember the feeling.

He knew this threat somewhere.

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Sometime later, she was dangling from his blade protruding through her chest, her body lifeless and weak under his bloody hand. Nothing made sense to him anymore, absolutely nothing was clear. He'd grown so much hate over the past several decades working as a Shinigami that he couldn't differentiate between love and emotions anymore.

When he pulled his sword out from between the injury of her tender flesh and cradled her onto the ground, he could feel something inside him screaming, something, yelling helplessly and desperately and lost: _It's not happening again. . . IT'S NOT HAPPENING AGAIN!_

But it was happening, whatever it was. Toshiro was shaking against her in horror as she lifted her head to ask him, hurt, lifelessly, "Why?" He was hearing her fragile voice saying his name that was drenched in a layer of betrayal, of his own uselessness, her fear of him. He was feeling her heart beat slower in her chest in his arms while she closed her eyes and lost her breath, and he felt his own stop completely. _I hate you_, he heard her voice in the back of his mind say, _I hate you; you killed me; it's your fault again for hurting me._

He hated himself. He wanted to kill and die. And that was what he screamed out when he lost all sense of control and lunged towards the man behind all this, the man who'd done this to his and her relationship, and one who took her away from him again. He was screaming, and inside he was crying, and deeper inside his heart was breaking and shattering and falling into a million bloody pieces because _?_

He knew this hate somewhere . . . he _knew_ this hate somewhere.

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She wasn't dead, not completely anyway. Of course, he couldn't bear to hear any news even if she was alive. He felt ashamed for recovering from his injuries, and before Matsumoto could even tell him that he needed to rest some more, he ran away to train. For endless days and nights of sleeplessness, Toshiro only wanted to be by himself.

It was the aftermath repeating itself from history.

When he finally did return to his senses, he was cold for weeks, numb from a sudden exhaustion and realization of what exactly happened that day during the battle. The night he finally went to visit her, in her room, her body covered with bandages and an oxygen mask over her mouth, he went back to his room and sat on his futon to stare at the wall blankly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized the white wall; he recognized the position of sitting curled up in his blankets, his arms wrapped around his body. He recognized the emptiness.

Yes, he recognized it all; he knew this hollowness somewhere.

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The next time he saw her smile was nearly a year later. He couldn't look at her in the eye, and neither could she. They couldn't speak anymore because of all the unspoken things that had happened between them, all the pain and hurt and emotions they had been through. She couldn't trust him to protect her.

But then again, that was only for the first few times; some time during December, there was watermelon on his desk.

He sent peaches, she sent snacks; he went to visit her for the first time and she smiled, so brilliantly, so happily that he could feel his dark world light up again. Slowly, they began to recover, and Momo was filling up the gap in his chest that he made when he plunged his sword through her heart that one time. He was being more careful of not using his Bankai and sword in front of her, so as to not bring them both that painful memory. But she surprised him when she said she didn't mind, when she took Hyourinmaru from his hands one day and she traced her fingertip gently over the blade, so softly Toshiro also shivered.

She put one hand in his hair and ruffled, and for the first time Toshiro let her without any objection.

He was smiling at her for the first time in a long time. He knew this warmth somewhere.

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He finally grew taller than her; he was finally capable of defeating all obstacles that come his way to harm her. He was proud of the one-inch difference between them, as it was a proof that he was completely capable of taking care of her now. Momo, however, teased him in saying that height was just a number.

And then, one night, that number finally allowed him to kiss her.

He was getting stronger even still because he had a new responsibility to take on from then. He was overly protective, occasionally possessive, and still blushed sometimes when she offered for them to hold hands. Nevertheless, his new duty was to shield her away from the rest of the world. Well then, maybe it was not so new.

Occasionally, he saw images of his past life as a boy, brown-haired, black-eyed, and somewhat similar to Momo's appearance. He remembered the love he felt for her even as a little child, the want to be by her side forever because they were meant to be. Momo never remembered, unfortunately, but she still smiled when he described everything to her, wondering if it really was that real, if their home was really like that on Earth.

They never knew the exact answer, but he knew the exact feeling of being wrapped and wrapped around her body and arms that it was the place he'd always belonged it: it was home.

And he knew he knew this place somewhere.

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><p><em>Whew! -wipes sweat from eyebrows- It's been a long time since I came on here, and boy am I glad to be back. This was my first fanfiction on the pairing, and I absolutely adore them, so I hope that it was okay. The beginning I think was alright, and then afterwards it just became like eeeeehhhhheeeeeehhhKABOOM. Yeah, it happens.<em>

_Thanks for reading, readers!_


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